The Adventure Inherent
by Sare Liz
Summary: HG/SS, Marriage Law Challenge. "By the time he'd left Albus's office, Severus was convinced that he was, indeed, insane, and had ceased worrying about it. Life was undoubtedly going to be easier from now on, now that he’d lost his mind."
1. The Adventure Inherent

**Title**: The Adventure Inherent  
**Author**: Sare Liz,  
**Disclaimer**: They don't belong to me.  
**Pairing**: HG/SS  
**Rating**: um, it really ranges. Let's say T for now.  
**Continuity**: AU (Canon up until OOTP), seventh year, pre-war.  
**Warning**: SS is debatably OOC.  
**Notes**: When did I start this? Years ago? And it's 67 pages, and still unfinished. My great hope is to post it, as you see, bit by bit, and be thusly inspired to finish it. Here's to hoping…

A response to the WIKTT Marriage Law Challenge.

A Brief Description of the Challenge, Interpreted:_ Due to the obvious and ill effects of inbreeding in pureblood families, the Ministry of Magic in their infinite wisdom have enacted an archaic law allowing for legally binding betrothals to be sought by any pureblood witch or wizard or their familial representative, to any first, second, or third generation muggle born witch or wizard. The presentation of betrothals through this legislation will not occur until both parties are legally of age and out of school (which by Ministry Standards and for the purpose of this fic stands at 18 years and 6 months, or as they like to say "81,085.5 Days of Life"), and once presented with opportunity, an acceptance must be made and a marriage must occur within a reasonable time frame._

--

_**Chapter 1: Severus' POV**_

_**Week One, Day One: Monday Evening.**_

There have been few things in Severus Snape's life that he'd ever truly felt compelled to obtain.

Power, for a long time, had been one of those things and he'd gone about getting it in interesting ways. He yearned for, and achieved in due time, power over his own fate, power to do what he wanted to do, power over people beneath him, but of course, it was more complicated than just that. It also meant paying back those who helped you, getting _them_ more power, and more, and then still more. Severus wasn't sure where the line was, really, of having enough power and then having too much, but he was certain that at some point he'd crossed it, just as the Dark Lord had crossed it. And yet, Severus never quite had enough power to obtain what he wished, in those few moments that he wished for something with every magical particle in his body.

That failure, that single moment of incredible failure of his wits, his scheming, and his power meant the death of the only pure dream he'd had in many years.

Since then, his focus shifted quite sharply from seeking power to seeking vengeance. Taking vengeance on Voldemort for himself, for Lily, and for Lily's infant son, as well taking vengeance on himself for his nameless victims and his inability to love selflessly (for that rare occasion that he loved), it was his world. It was punctuated by the annual round of terrifying the first years, gloating to the Head of Gryffindor over the tender topic of Slytherin dominance in Quidditch, and recently, making sure that Lily's son – now no longer and infant, but sadly a carbon copy of his father, rather than his mother – stayed alive and reasonably intact.

It was a punishing, destructive, and rather satisfying way to spend the last eighteen or so years. And yet, just as Severus' quest for power had ended in somewhat unexpectedly in humility, his quest for vengeance was ending - crashing about his ears, really - in what to all outward appearances was _atonement_. And this transition was turning out to be just as gradual as the last one was violent.

There were of course, still things he had to do for the Headmaster, for the Order. Simply because he was beginning to say the last rites over his inner demons, Severus had no illusions about the tension in the air of the coming war. He had never been an unintelligent man, nor unobservant, however much he failed to act on his instinct, tripping over his pride as he had so often in the past.

This new change, in one sense it scared the hell out of him, as he was quite comfortable with vengeance, thank you, and had felt before no pressing need for change. But in a different sense, it was like coming home, in a way that coming home never actually had been for Severus.

This new part of his life, this new thing to obtain, this new way to be, it had surrounded him. It came on slowly, silently, and he hadn't recognized it until it was too late. Now he was too familiar with it, it was too much a part of how he saw the world for him to truly disavow it. Oh, to be certain he could give a good outward appearance, that had never been a problem, but he had to live with the inward truth, and he had only just lately realized that it was _**his**_ inward truth and not someone else's.

It, _it, __**it**_ – he could hardly even admit _**it**_ to himself, hardly even put _**it**_ into words even though he _knew_ it in a way beyond words.

He wanted not power, nor vengeance, but something that looked suspiciously like… love. Love, and all its trappings. But he'd never admit it to Minerva. Not ever.

And so, in the privacy of Albus' study, he griped less when the old man would present a view of the future that included Severus's own children. That such comments were once met with sharp and vociferous negativity but were now met with quiet grumbling could not have gone unnoticed. He wasn't that lucky. Of course, there was always reality to contend with, not that reality ever seemed to dim the enthusiasm of Albus Dumbledore. That Severus didn't currently have any children and to date knew of no decent witch who wanted to rectify the situation did not seem to stifle the twinkle in the Headmaster's eye, not one bit.

Similarly, while at tea, Severus ceased changing the subject abruptly when Minerva would present the pros and cons of _marriage in maturity_, as she would call it. It was just the two of them in the room, anyway, and had been for the last eighteen years. The weekly teas had begun under the guise of better inter-house relations. It was only with a great deal of hindsight that the Head of Slytherin could admit to himself the more probable truth of the matter: Albus had known he needed a friend, or if not a friend, someone to talk to. And he _had_ needed it, desperately so. Of course now his so-called friend teased him unmercifully about all such things that she had no business knowing, but since he was the one who had told her… it all seemed to even out, really.

It was in these ways that ever so very gently his mind acclimated to the concept of finding _**someone**_ - not the necessity of it, but the inevitability of it. For the first time in the mind of the Potions Master, marriage became something more than a means to an end, and became quite simply, the end itself. The fact that he had no one currently in mind was secondary, as that would obviously work itself out. He just needed to be open to the possibilities. That much he had learned from Minerva.

It was in this mindset that the new academic year began. Another year of gut-twisting faking with Voldemort, another year on the active list of the Order, another year teaching potions to dunderheads who would just barely avoid immolating themselves and their cauldron-mate, and another year - though thankfully the last year - that he would have to deal with St. Potter and his menagerie at the school. He didn't hold out hope that should he survive the war he would be utterly rid of the Golden Gryffindors, unless of course, _they_ didn't survive the war. It was a thought that had a certain sad merit. Well, no – he might as well be honest with himself. He didn't mind losing Mr. Potter to the war effort, but it would be a wrench to lose Harry, Lily's son. If only he could tease out the one from the other, he mused.

So long as he was telling the truth to himself, Severus thought, he might as well come clean with all of it.

A week ago, even, he might have just left it at that – an earnest desire to exorcise James Potter from his son Harry, and a grudging admittance that at least Miss Hermione Granger was not a complete and utter waste of time. Had, for instance, she been sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor (though she clearly belonged to that insufferable house) it would have been _**him**_ raving about the Head Girl in the staff room instead of Minerva. Unfortunately, his role as a spy quelled most of his natural inclination to praise her, and her friendship with the James Potter look-a-like squashed the rest of it. However, as of last Friday, Hermione Granger was something of a fond 'what if' in his mind. Severus had placed her right next to the only other such wasted dream, and smirked at them both sitting on the shelf in his mind together. They, the both of them, had abhorrent taste in friends.

Two Sundays ago things changed a bit concerning Miss Granger, when a certain knowledge of a disturbing nature reached Severus, rather an inevitability when Lucius confides with drunken glee that Draco would soon be marrying the chit, and wouldn't that be fun? And while at the time the Potions Master did of course agree to his part in the ceremony, as Draco's godfather, the ensuing conversation with Albus was somewhat less amusing for all involved. This was possibly due to a lack of scotch.

By last Monday Severus had decided that his shock and ill temper stemmed from the general perverseness of the idea that there should actually exist a Mrs. Hermione Malfoy (like unto the perverseness of the Universe in sanctioning the existence of a Mrs. Lily _Potter_). It went unsaid that her life as a part of that family would be involuntary, unhappy, and possibly quite short. It was inappropriate, inhumane, and a gross breach of every decent assumption of human autonomy. He was personally affronted by the mere suggestion of it, but of course only in general terms. Hermione herself didn't really matter to him, because of course, why should she? She's just a student - a good one to be sure, and would be a wonderful Order member in her time, etc, etc - but he'd feel the same way if it had been Hannah Abbot or Padma Patil. There was nothing overly special, was the thing, about Miss Granger.

By Wednesday Severus was in complete agreement with Albus - something needed to be done. They were in the midst of having the law repealed, it was true, but until then reality was what it was. Miss Granger was too close to everything - the Order, Albus, Potter, and certainly Severus himself - for her to be taken by the Deatheaters as a spoil of war. She was also too young and too inexperienced to take the role of spy herself and willingly enter the hell that would be Malfoy Manor. There was nothing for it - she would have to marry someone else, someone powerful enough to stand up to a challenge from the darkness and not get himself killed. There were several Order members to choose from, really, and Severus berated himself for feeling the inexplicable way he did about it. It was a situation he would have found incredibly distasteful if he were in her shoes, and he didn't relish Albus' position in the least. The entire thing was distasteful, really, incomprehensibly distasteful.

By Thursday he'd done something completely irrational, and quite possibly lost his mind in the process. He'd put his name back into Albus's hat of those possible suitors for Miss Granger, and he'd gotten picked. By the time he'd left Albus's office, Severus was convinced that he was, indeed, insane, and had ceased worrying about it. Life was undoubtedly going to be easier from now on, now that he'd lost his mind.

And now it was Monday. The weekend had been spent cycling through the pain of reality ("she hates you, this will never work, you have consigned the both of you to a living hell") and the bliss of madness ("but what if she doesn't hate you? Can't you see the adventure inherent in this?"), and this in between all of his other duties for the day. He had been in turns maudlin and cynical, and none of it had helped him sort out why he'd done what he had, or how he was going to handle the situation from here, but he sat near the fire, waiting for her knock, waiting to see what they would do about reality.

--

_...in our next chapter, we see Hermione knock on the door. The adventure continues. If you enjoyed it, please do let me know. Any and all reviews will help feed the muse. Thx - Sare_

_EDIT: continuity issues fixed. :) Thanks to whitehound and bigmommak. Possibly if I had a beta, this wouldn't have happened..._


	2. A Quick And Clever Witch

_**Title:**_ The Adventure Inherent

_**Chapter 2: Hermione's POV: **A Quick and Clever Witch_

_**Week One, Day One:** Monday Evening, continued._

_**Chapter Summary: **_"Tell me, Miss Granger, and truly, now is not the time to hold back: Have you ever fancied being Mrs. Draco Malfoy?"

---

She knocked on his door, the door to his private office and suites, and waited. Harry and Ron had told her about the time they'd been brought here, after they crashed into the Whomping Willow and their description hadn't been full of joy. She smoothed out her skirt and minutely adjusted her Head Girl pin as she took another deep breath.

The trick with Professor Snape was to just clear your mind. You couldn't worry about whatever it was you thought you'd done, or in her case, the possibility of a Seventh Year Project in Potions that would look incredible on her applications to University. You couldn't think of any of that, because whether or not the professor was actually practicing Legilimency on you at the time, he could smell your fear, possibly in a literal sense. It was best to just try not to fear him, though clearly that was a tall order. It worked in theory, however, and clearing your mind was the first step.

The door was obviously charmed to unlock and swing open by itself, as when she entered, the professor was nowhere in sight. Glancing around the private laboratory, the shelves upon shelves of stores, potions, and books, Hermione found herself somewhat wide-eyed and slightly breathless before she remembered to clear her mind.

"Professor Snape, it's Hermione Granger," she politely called out to the room, hoping that wherever he was he would hear. "I've come to discuss the project you mentioned after class today." She licked her lips and tried to empty her mind again. She was slightly less successful than the last time.

After only a few heartbeats, during only one of which her mind was actually clear, she heard his voice. The sound was slightly muffled and coming through a lit doorway.

"In here, Miss Granger."

The click of her school shoes sounded across the stone as she crossed his private office to come to a doorway off to the side, where she paused. It was a cozy room, with tapestries covering what walls the bookshelves didn't. There were two chairs by the fire and a worktable in the corner by the bookcases. It was quite nice, really, and not something she would have immediately associated with this particular professor.

Though he didn't rise as she entered, he did indicate that she too could sit, and she did, finding the chair quite comfortable, and probably as perfect for reading as it was for having conversation in. Not that what was about to transpire was going to be an actual conversation, but still. It was somehow nice to know that even Professor Snape liked comfortable chairs by his fire. It made him that much more human in her eyes.

When he looked at her, Hermione was taken slightly off her guard. For once he didn't look… well, sneaky. He usually wore a look that was not entirely trustworthy, and was occasionally down right evil. She had an odd feeling that she was about to see the man at his most sneaky, or possibly she was about to see him as close to guileless as possible. Either option was unnerving.

"Miss Granger," he started, and she was slightly unnerved at how completely still he was. "What we are about to discuss is extremely sensitive in nature. I trust in two things. The first, that you will use what I know to be your considerable discretion concerning the proceedings."

Before he spoke again, he broke eye contact and this too, unnerved her. She hadn't realized how intimate it was, human being to human being, until it was gone. He stared into the flames consuming the logs in the fireplace as he continued.

"You know of my work for the Order, and you must realize by now that in the eyes of most of the students in this castle, I must be seen as remaining loyal to the Dark Lord. I would not have you reverse all of my hard work." There was the barest hint of a smile at that, before he turned back to her and held her gaze.

"The second, that for the duration of these proceedings, and any like them, you will consider the two of us equals, colleagues if you will, and as such nothing you say or do will be used against you or your house. Do you understand?"

Hermione took a moment to digest this. "So, what you mean to say, Professor, is that I may feel free to speak my honest mind without fear of censure from you, I just can't tell anyone about it."

There was a smile at that. It was small, but it was a smile, and quite frankly, it looked better than his scowls. "Exactly. Do you find these terms acceptable?"

"I do, Professor."

"Good. I think it fair to tell you that I have not summoned you to discuss a project, though once the present crisis is averted I would not be adverse to such a discussion."

"Crisis, sir?" She couldn't honestly think of such a thing that would necessitate Professor Snape calling her instead of Professor McGonagall. She also noted with some interest that he left the option of the project open. It was much more than she'd ever hoped for, the project.

"Crisis, Miss Granger," he affirmed.

Apparently she could ask him questions in this forum without fear of snarky rejoinders, either. That was even nicer than the house points issue.

"The Headmaster and the Order have had much deliberation on the subject of your humble self over the last few weeks. For reasons that will be quite clear later on, I was deemed the best person to approach you on the matter. You are, I suppose, aware of the recent bit of atrocious legislation that has been written and passed by the Ministry?"

"Yes, sir. I know that there are some people, and some of whom are in the Order, who are in process of overturning it, or something similar."

"Indeed, but it will not be overturned by next week."

He paused for quite a length of time at this, and she felt the need to fill in the void and risk his possible wrath, as he wouldn't be taking house points away for it. "And next week is important in what respect?"

"Next week you will have lived 222 months, and become officially eligible."

"I beg your pardon, sir. I shan't be 18 1/2 for another six months. And I don't particularly see what the problem is - it's not as if there is a line forming. I mean, I haven't had a boyfriend in a year."

"Two words, Miss Granger." And these two words he enunciated with terribly clarity. "Time turner."

"Time turner," she whispered with dawning distaste.

"And for your information, the line has already formed."

She was suddenly so cold. It was as if the fire had gone out in his study, as if there were no warm tapestries to keep out the chill of the stone.

Her look of confusion and dawning horror apparently weren't lost on him.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, and truly, now is not the time to hold back: Have you ever fancied being Mrs. Draco Malfoy?"

She hoped her moan of disgust was answer enough. Coherency wasn't going to happen just yet. She wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her thin cloak tighter, trying desperately to get warm.

There was silence, but she didn't care. A hot cup of tea was pressed into her hands and she curled her fingers around it, and the heat hurt. It was the small sharp pain that brought her back to reality in time to see the professor cast a temporary warming charm over her and the chair she sat in. She met his eyes as the charm began its beautiful magic on her. Once she was feeling more herself, he continued as if the brief episode hadn't occurred. Later, she would look back on it and be grateful.

"I quite agree, as does Albus. Unfortunately, with the offer forthcoming, as it most certainly will be upon the hour of your eligibility, it is quite impossible for you to remain unbetrothed. It is equally impossible for you to marry anyone who could not otherwise withstand the wrath of a Deatheater. Lucius Malfoy, for all of his many faults, is a very powerful wizard, and very protective of his son."

"It certainly does narrow my field of possibility, doesn't it?" she asked quietly, and somewhat out of breath. She couldn't marry a muggle, not that she knew any. But her parents were always talking about the possibility, not that it was a possibility anymore. They wouldn't understand why such a quick marriage was necessary, and of course, they'd be murdered out of hand. And her past boyfriends? No, none of them fit the bill.

So there it was: it would have to be someone she'd never been intimate with. There was a thought to sober you up, if ever there was one. Maybe someone she already knew, but probably someone older.

It was just as well that the professor kept speaking, as Hermione's mind was going nowhere good, and getting there quickly.

"Indeed, and Albus has spent much time pondering just that. Do you have any suggestions of your own, Miss Granger? Any suitable possibilities come to mind?"

She thought briefly of Harry. He was really the only one, and he was in love with someone else, something that before this moment she'd never begrudged him. For the tiniest moment she wished they'd been involved. It would have made life so much easier. But the moment passed before she had time to even really grasp onto it, because he was Harry, for heaven's sake. _**Harry**_. She just couldn't think of him like that. Then again, she couldn't think of Malfoy like that either, so maybe if Harry weren't attached to someone else… But he was. So it was no use.

She shook her head. There was no one.

"Albus has been planning for this eventuality. According to the law, you have a month after you receive your first offer to decide upon it. If you do not accept an alternate offer, or present some other binding plan to marry someone not yet eligible, you will by default accept the first offer.

"What I mean to say, Miss Granger, is that you have approximately five weeks to decide to whom you will be married, and that a rash answer need not be given tonight."

She nodded. Clearly the Headmaster really had planned ahead, and her other marriage option was going to be given to her right now. Her brain automatically started racking itself to make educated guesses. She was coming up completely blank, until after a moment, a diamond sharp realization sliced through the soft grey matter of her brain.

"Is it safe to assume, sir," she started, very quietly, and very gingerly, almost as if she could do it quietly and gingerly enough, it wouldn't actually be occurring. "That as I am in your sitting room discussing this with you instead of the Headmaster, that you are… that you have… that I am to expect an offer from you as well?"

His response was oh-so quiet. "You are a quick and clever witch, Hermione Granger."

Her throat closed. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She stopped breathing altogether.

She took some moments to compose herself before she spoke again.

"As much as I would do to avoid marriage with Malfoy, I do not relish the idea of marrying a relative stranger either. You may think it a childish sentiment, particularly in view of the war, and of your sacrifices, should such an arrangement take place, but I would very much like to know who it is I am to marry. I mean, I would like to get to know you, sir, in what little way I can before I make my decision. And if… when I so choose, I would want to continue that process, I think."

Perhaps it was her imagination, because heaven knows quite a bit had been thrown at her, but he sounded almost relieved in his response.

"That is quite advisable, Miss Granger. To that end, I think a potions project is in order after all. It will give us both a chance to know one another."

She nodded and there was silence.

"I can only assume, Miss Granger, that you have quite a bit to think about just now, and will require some time alone, or perhaps in the company of your friends. I only ask that you require of them the same discretion you yourself have. If you return in two days, we will discuss what manner of project you can do to further amaze and astound the entrance boards of the universities."

She smiled briefly and nodded, but it was short lived. It was now or never, really.

"I have one question, Professor. You have, in a very strange and roundabout way, asked me to marry you. I have, in a _**very**_ strange and roundabout way, accepted. What then occurs in class? You have not, in the years I have known you, been the kindest nor the fairest professor in the school. With the very notable exception of Professor Umbridge, you have been the most hateful, cruel, arbitrary, punitive, bigoted, unfeeling bastard that has ever taught us. How do I reconcile the man I will probably marry, the man who sits before me, who does not seem to resemble these things to the man I will face in class during potions?"

She had remained quiet throughout the entire question. In fact, she had nearly whispered it. It wasn't anger that had motivated her, and perhaps that's why. There was more of a tearing, painful confusion in the middle of her chest that she just couldn't account for, and it hurt. So she had asked.

His response was surprisingly gentle.

"How would you have me be, Miss Granger?"

She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost too much, and she didn't have an answer. He was a spy, and while he probably had a significant natural tendency to be a bastard, much of it could be attributed to his work for the Order. Though, he probably did truly hate Harry. That didn't bear thinking just now, though.

When she opened her eyes again, he was leaning forward.

"I can't change my attitude in class, at least not at this time. However, I promise, as a token of my earnest, that whatever unmerited points I deduct from your best friends, I will somehow award back before the end of the week."

Her jaw dropped. Of all the things to hear in the evening, this had shocked her the most. "You'll award points to _**Gryffindor**_, sir?"

"Best not to rub it in just yet, Miss Granger. I'm still getting used to the idea."

"Sir, if we do become betrothed, will you still be hateful then?"

"While it would amuse me heartily to give half of my own house the vapors by blatantly not doing so, that is a topic we would bring before the Headmaster before coming to a definite decision, I think."

She nodded.

"Do you have any other questions before our evening ends?

She shook her head mutely. The moment of laughter he had nearly evoked dissipated and left her staring unseeing into the flames of the fire.

"Come then," he said, getting up, and apparently waiting for her to do the same. Motioning for her to precede him out of the room and into his laboratory, he continued. "Your mind is elsewhere, and I would hate for you to get entangled with any of my Slytherins enroute to your Common Room. I shall escort you to your tower."

It was as he was just finishing putting on his outer robes, just before he began to take down the wards on the door exiting his chambers that her mind seemed to click back and into the current situation.

"Won't that seem strange, sir?"

He paused and turned his head, meeting her eyes.

"Before the year is out, Miss Granger, Hogwarts is going to see many a strange thing from the two of us. This will be the least of them all."

And that was the crux of it, of course. She hadn't officially decided, but what choice did she have? Was it the end of the world? Maybe, but maybe not. Either way, she was going to marry Snape. It probably wasn't a sign of the apocalypse, which meant that the morning after it she would still be Hermione, if not Granger.

---

_...to be continued in Chapter 3, in which we see Severus muse on this conversation, and what the future might bring. If you enjoyed this chapter, I'd love to know about it, so feel free to send the love with a review. It helps to feed the muse, don't you know. And as an fyi - in the great push to actually finish this story, I wrote two more chapters. I think I'm up to 21 finished ones, with 20 or so left to go. Ish._

_EDIT: continuity issues fixed. :) Thanks to whitehound and bigmommak. Possibly if I had a beta, this wouldn't have happened..._


	3. A Good Day

_**Title:**__ The Adventure Inherent_

_**Chapter 3: Severus' POV: **__A Good Day_

_**Week One, Day One: **__Monday Evening, continued._

_**Chapter Summary: **__Most of the time, Severus really loathed who he was, and what he had to do. It was days like this, however, when he got opportunities to play them off each other and piss off everyone that really made life worth living._

---

Well, that went well, all things considered.

There were no hysterics. That had been his main concern. She had been utterly calm, frighteningly so at times, and there had been one point where he was almost sure she was going to faint, though she didn't in the end.

She'd been calm and rational, which was highly commendable in his estimation. She'd asked intelligent questions, even if they were ones he didn't particularly want to answer. Also, she didn't find the idea of marriage to him utterly repugnant, which was promising. Granted, that idea was juxtaposed against an alliance with Draco Malfoy, so there could be a delayed reaction once she realizes she's picked the lesser of two evils.

Perhaps in time she wouldn't find the idea entirely revolting, which would be a move toward something good, as right now he was having a hard time imagining time spent with her as anything other than completely delightful.

With that in mind, he floo'd the Headmaster's Office. He needed to report his unmitigated success and plan for the day that the entire school knew of his betrothal.

He was seriously considering that his previous and long-term favoritism toward his own house was about to change. He was almost looking forward to taking the little bastards completely off their guard. Once it was circulated to the proper rumormongers amongst the Dark Lord's circle, he would even have their blessing, such as it was.

Most of the time, Severus really loathed who he was, and what he had to do. It was days like this, however, when he got opportunities to play them off each other and piss off everyone that really made life worth living.

Yes, today was a good day.

---

_Author's Note: __Yes, it's an itty-bitty chapter. Which is why there are two, today. Next up: Hermione breaks the news to the gang..._


	4. Exaudi Orantionem Meam

_**Title:**__ The Adventure Inherent_

_**Chapter 4: Hermione's POV: **__Exaudi Orantionem Meam_

_**Week One, Day One: **__Monday Evening, continued._

_**Chapter Summary: **__"Well, it's a good thing you're sitting down, because I've got some bloody awful news." Hermione glanced over as she brushed off her hands. "I'm getting married to our Potions Master."_

---

She had spoken with Harry and Ron. Ron's eyes had bulged and his face turned red, but as Harry had clapped his hand over their friend's mouth, the entire Common Room was saved from hearing what the sixth Weasley child had to say on the subject of marriage between his marvelous best friend and the greasiest of all greasy gits.

The conversation, as well as it had progressed, had worn her out, and by the time Professor McGonagall had come and gone Hermione was mentally exhausted, and full of some rather perturbing questions that wanted answers.

She put a hand to her forehead and rubbed. As tired as she was, she didn't think there was any way she was going to get to sleep. Harry and Ron, as wonderful as they were being, weren't really helping.

"Guys," she said, interrupting a litany of Draco Malfoy's faults. "I think I'm going to go to my rooms." She looked at Harry. Sweet, wonderful Harry. Why couldn't it have been Harry?

"Harry," she started, looking over at Ginny in a knot of sixth years by the fire. Not only were the two dating, and quite frankly, perfect for each other, but Ginny was her only close girlfriend.

"I don't really want to interrupt her just now, but after a while, would you ask Ginny to come over to my room? I want to tell her too, and I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep for a while."

"Of course, 'Mione."

She got up, and they rose too, each giving her a long hug in turn, before she exited to the small and dimly lit hallway that led to the Gryffindor Head Girl suite.

It was only just as she had finished brushing her teeth, braiding her hair and changing into her nightgown that the knock came on her door.

"Hermione, it's Ginny," she heard, muffled.

"Come on in," she called.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" she heard in muffled exasperation. "You know I can't get past your wards! Just open up and let me in, already!"

Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it at the door, speaking the password phrase. "Domine, exaudi orationem meam, et clamor meus ad te veniat."

The door swung open and Ginny was revealed, hands on her hips, giving Hermione a look.

"How you remember all that is totally beyond me. You're taking this Latin thing entirely too far, Hermione."

"I'll have a simpler one for next week, I promise."

She turned away to put a log on the fire while Ginny made herself comfortable on the bed.

"You alright, 'Mione? You seem… off."

"Well, it's a good thing you're sitting down, because I've got some bloody awful news." Hermione glanced over as she brushed off her hands. "I'm getting married to our Potions Master."

The laughter could be heard ringing even faintly down into the Common Room.

"Oh, you're not joking, are you?" Ginny asked, between gasps for air.

"No, I'm not," Hermione answered, not quite being able to keep a straight face. She finally gave up and smiled. She felt infinitely better for the effort.

She came over and sat on the other side of the bed. Ginny took a good look at her, and fell back onto the bed in a second gale of laughter. At some point Hermione gave in and laughed with her.

When the two girls could finally speak coherently, her heart was considerably lighter.

"Well, he's not exactly the Sex God of Slytherin, now is he?"

"Ginny!" Hermione squealed, completely mortified by her best friend's habitually racy candor.

"But I bet there's quite a bit of pent up passion behind that dark and brooding exterior. You can see it leaking through whenever he deducts house points."

"You have thought entirely too much about this, Ginny Weasley."

"Well, that's my job - to think these things through, since you're clearly not on top of it. It's not like Harry or Ron are going to be pointing these very important things out to you."

Hermione laughed and agreed.

"Well, alright then. Tell me the whole story. I take it you're still a virgin?"

"It's nothing like that, Ginny," Hermione said, and began to blush furiously.

"Well then, you'd better tell me what it is like, or I'll-"

But Hermione cut her off before she could really get going.

She told her about the applicability of the law to her life. She spoke of the time turner, of Lucius Malfoy, of Professor Snape's counter bid, of her fears about the school, her parents, Draco and Slytherin retaliation tactics. In short, she poured her heart out.

And Ginny, Ginny was the perfect listener. She didn't interrupt as Harry and Ron tended to do, merely nodding and murmuring her approval, disapproval, and encouragement. When Hermione was finally done, when there was nothing left to say, and when several tissues had been consumed, it was then that Ginny spoke.

"I dunno how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it. It doesn't sound like you're too upset about marrying Snape."

"What?" Hermione exploded, but this time Ginny did cut her off.

"No, listen," she said, sitting up and gesturing with her hands. "I knew it'd come out wrong. I mean, it's clear you're pissed about the law and rightly so. I mean, I'm pureblood so I get to choose, but so help me God if someone tries to get to Harry before I do, there's gonna be hell to pay. So really, it sucks whatever side you're on. And you're worried about what the fucking idiots in the school are going to think of you, and what retaliation you're going to have to be prepared for. Also, that totally sucks. And of course you're filled with shock and horror at the thought of marriage to Malfoy - anyone would, outside of Pansy Parkinson, I don't care how good he is in bed. He's a twisted little ferret and there's no two ways about it.

"The point I'm trying to make, though, is that even under the circumstances, you don't seem overly concerned that you can't marry someone of your own choice, and at your own time. I mean, that's probably a good way to think about things at this point in the game, it's just that it seems rather strange."

Hermione sighed and shrugged. She hadn't quite thought of it that way, but it was true. It seemed like, in the grand hierarchy of important things to be bothered about, that issue seemed rather far down on the list.

She sighed again, and tried to work out her feelings as she spoke them. As was the case with Ginny, she usually realized only as she was speaking, that what she was saying was true.

"It's not that I don't care, really. I mean, _**I care**_. And this was definitely not in my plan. I don't know, I just…"

Hermione cried out in frustration and tipped herself back onto her pillows.

"Ginny, I don't know what the hell is going on with me, I really don't. I haven't had a serious boyfriend since Viktor, and even he was bloody annoying toward the end, there. I'm never comfortable with them, except Harry and Ron of course. They never want to do the same sort of things I do, and even when I am interested, it all turns out badly. They all turn into annoying prats when they realize you'd rather be doing Arithmancy than snog yet again in front of the fire." She broke off then, and mused softly, "Not that snogging is a bad thing, really, but if it's just the same thing over and over again, then no thank you."

"So what are you saying, Hermione? All you can find to date are immature boys, so why not an arranged marriage?"

She looked over at Ginny and shrugged.

"Sort of."

"Well, I'll grant you that whatever Snape is, I doubt it's immature. At least, not most of the time."

"He was really sweet, Ginny," Hermione said softly.

At her friend's completely incredulous look, she continued.

"We're going to do a project so I can get to know him better. And when we were together, it wasn't like class. He's… I can't even describe it. He's totally different. He's human. He's got comfortable chairs by his fire, and he let me call him a complete bastard, among other things."

"And you've not been expelled yet?"

"No." Hermione rolled to her side and propped her head up on her arm. "Ginny, he gave me this totally amazing look and asked me how else he could be, circumstances being what they are."

"So you're saying it's all an act? That, for instance, Snape doesn't actually hate Harry?"

Hermione sighed. "No," she said. "I think he really does hate him. In fact, hate might be too gentle a word for how he feels about Harry. I don't know, Ginny. I'm not saying that Snape might not have a natural tendency toward nastiness, but I don't think he's completely incapable of being genuinely kind, either."

She thought for a while in the silence.

"I think I would be quite miserable married to our Potions Master. But I don't feel the same way about the man I was with this evening. If I must marry, I see no great fault in marrying that man."

Ginny smiled and leaned over to embrace Hermione. It was going to be alright, she could feel it, and the feeling would last until breakfast, when Harry and Ron would remind her of other parts of reality that must be dealt with. For right now, however, it was going to be alright.

Ginny leaned back and hopped off the bed.

"Get some sleep if you can, Hermione. Dream sweet dreams of Sevvy for me, okay?"

Hermione threw a pillow at her.

Giggling, she ducked. "No, but seriously, Hermione. After all is said and done, you're going to have to tell me how the sex is, alright?"

Hermione threw another pillow.

Ginny shrieked with laughter as the pillow hit her square in the face.

---

_**Author's Note:**__ Alrighty then. Now I'm off to write Chapter 15 and edit and review Chapters 5 & 6. And eat my dinner. Yay for dinner. Stay tuned for Chapter 5, in which we see the following: "Severus was seriously fearing that he had gone soft at some point. The upsetting part of the matter was that he didn't care nearly as much as he thought he ought." ::smiles charmingly:: Don't forget to review and tell me what you think. I adore it, you know._

And oh - translation on that Latin? "Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you." What can I say? I'm a church geek. Please don't hold it against me. Otherwise I am quite normal. (Though, it might amuse you to know that I got it from one of the Roman rites of Exorcism. ;) You can pick up the strangest things in Seminary, really you can. Anyway, moving on...)


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